


Hearts of Kyber

by tadok0ro



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Character Study, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9171832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadok0ro/pseuds/tadok0ro
Summary: "Do not pity me, Baze," Chirrut spoke up, one hand trailed across the stone walls of the temple and the other out in front of him. "All is as the Force wills it."And the Force willed his feet to catch on a small step and trip him to the floor.(A series of short one-shots focusing on Chirrut and Baze's relationship over the years)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im sad and so i write

Chirrut had seen Baze's face before, long ago, when Baze's head was shaved and he knew the chants by heart, spoke them with inspiring conviction.

  
Chirrut had seen Baze's face when his brows furrowed in concentration during spars. When his face was calm during his prayers. When his eyes lit up in joy and smile split across his face at the rare sound of pattering rain in the temple. When he held his head up to the sky and caught droplets of rain on his tongue, letting his robes become drenched without a care.

  
Chirrut had seen Baze's face, blurred and concerned at Chirrut's bed-side as sickness ravaged him. Always concerned. Always asking the nurses if there was anything he could do. If there was anything more that could be done. There never was.

  
Chirrut, through the thick fog of his failing sight, through all the floaters, through the darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision, joked to chip away the mountain of pity placed in front of him. Joked to hear Baze laugh. Joked to make Baze's smile so he could view it while he still could.

  
When everything faded away, when the whispers of the caretakers-- always whispering, always pitying-- faded away and all became silent in the darkness of the world, he was not alone. There was the Force. And there was Baze.


	2. Chapter 2

"Do not pity me, Baze," Chirrut spoke up, one hand trailed across the stone walls of the temple and the other out in front of him. The temple felt foreign under his unsure feet. He'd known the layout by heart before, but now he had to map it out anew.

  
Baze, ever present at his side, stiffened and averted his gaze. _Caught._

  
Chirrut smiled, bright and vibrant as ever, a smile that seemed to light up the dim corridor. He swung his hand to the side in search of Baze and slapped him across the chest. His hand moved from chest up to Baze's shoulder where he gripped tightly.

 

"I'll forgive you this time," Chirrut said, a lightness to his tone that made Baze relax. "All is as the Force wills it."

  
And the Force willed his feet to catch on a small step and trip him to the floor.

  
There was snickering from the other young disciples watching in amusement. Baze growled and shot them a glare that wiped the smiles off their face and made them scatter away into the temple's depth.

  
He helped lift Chirrut to his feet, bodily and gracelessly. Chirrut steadied himself, he let his hand grip Baze's arm for support as he recollected the scattered pieces of his mental map. He prodded the stairs with his feet, adding them to the map as a hazard.

  
"You should pity them," Chirrut huffed firmly, gesturing towards where the snickering disciples had been. "They're going to get their butts kicked by a blind kid soon."

  
Baze snorted, an unexpected and loud laugh breaking through him. He looked at Chirrut, enjoyed the sight of his annoyance melting away into an easy smile when Baze laughed.

  
They continued their walk, Chirrut no longer feeling along the wall and walking with a confidence he hadn't had before. His other hand clasped gentle but firm to Baze's own. Not leading or being led. Just warmth and familiarity and an anchor as he fumbled in the dark.

  
He didn't mind falling as long as Baze was there.


	3. Chapter 3

The Jedi who came to the temple were few and far between. Jedha had fallen by the galactic wayside and few Jedi were ever so interested in their history to make the journey.

  
But one such Jedi came to them-- when Chirrut could still see and Baze was barely his friend-- and pulled Chirrut aside to offer him a test.

  
"This is how the younglings train," they said as they tied a blindfold snugly around Chirrut's head and placed a training staff in his hands. "To strengthen their connection with the force," they explained.

 

The Jedi struck out with their staff at random, to see how many he could block. And he blocking most of them.

  
"The Force is strong with you," they said with something akin to pride, staring down at hopeful, awe-filled eyes.

  
"Do I get to be a Jedi?!"

  
"I already have an apprentice, I'm afraid, and I don't know any others that need one," they said, a well rehearsed and worn line; they'd been prepared to let him down gently. They lowered their voice and added, "But if ever I find one in need on an apprentice, I'll send them your way, alright?" They winked, it was their little secret.

  
The following week, Chirrut insisted on sparing only while blindfolded.

  
He ended up with a lot of bruises.

  
\----

  
"Spar with me, Baze," Chirrut said, beckoning his friend forward as he waited, staff in hand.

  
Baze gave him a weary look. There was still a red stinging mark on Chirrut's face from an earlier spar with one of their fellow students. Despite his reservation, he picked up a staff from the sand and twirled it lazily in his hand.

  
"Are you sure?" he asked.

  
Chirrut cocked his head to the side, a playful smirk on his lips. "Is that pity I sense?" It was one of the many buttons he knew to press to get his way with Baze.

  
Baze rolled his eyes, let the staff rest lax in his hand. "No, I just don't want you hurt so bad you can't tr--"

  
Chirrut's staff flashed forward, smacking against Baze's shins.

 

"Oh? Did I hit you?" He asked, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

 

Baze growled, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance as he corrected his stance. "You asked for it..."

  
The spar started in earnest. Chirrut blocking and dodging Baze's aggressive strikes with practiced ease. Because practice is what Chirrut had done excessively. The sickness had sapped a lot of his physical strength, but he was determined to become even stronger than he'd been before. He'd learned to see with his ears during spars and his muscled remembered all the movements they'd been taught, but he was still adapting, still learning, _always_ learning.

  
Chirrut blocked Baze's heavy overhead strike and use the momentum to push him back. "Are you even trying?" He knew Baze was still holding back.

  
With a sigh and a roll of his shoulders, Baze resigned to give Chirrut what he wanted.

  
The strikes came faster, rolling together into a fierce elegance that only the Guardians could produce.

  
One slip up and Chirrut's defense was left wide open and Baze struck. His staff caught Chirrut's legs and sent him sprawling into the sand.

  
"Ow!" Chirrut hollered and squirmed in the sand pathetically. "You could have held back a _little!_ " He held his hand out into the air, playing the part of the gravely wounded. "Help me up at least."

  
Baze rolled his eyes, but dropped his staff and walked over to help anyways. "Such a fool," he grumbled as he grabbed the outstretched hand.

  
Chirrut pulled hard and brought Baze tumbling down on top of him.

 

"What was that? My hearing's a bit bad too." He smiled sweetly at Baze.

  
There was a flutter in Baze's chest at his friend's smile and somewhere in the airy space his head had become, his mind said ' _this_ ' but he didn't understand _what_.

  
Chirrut felt Baze relax and used the moment to roll them over to pin Baze on the ground. His hand came up and Baze half expected a pinch to the ear or something equally embarrassing, but the hand touched his cheek instead, feeling the warmth and the drops of sweat that'd dripped down from his forehead. They trailed up to his brow and then down his nose and briefly ghosting over his lips. It made his mouth dry and his skin tingle.

  
Chirrut stood, making the moment fade away as if it had been a dream, ( _Was it a dream? Had he passed out and imagined all this?_ ) and smiled a smug smile.

  
"I win."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for the kudos I appreciate it  
> (I'm really sorry for all the typos and errors that are prolly in these, they're un-beta'd)  
> and uhh i'm on tumblr if you want to toss me prompts or yell at me http://tadok0ro.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

Prayer was agony.

  
The Guardians-in-training, the disciples, all silent and the world felt perched atop the tip of a needle.

  
The bustling from outside in the Holy Quarter, the wind winding through the temple halls howling, the grating of each spec of sand against the stone floor. The breath of everyone in prayer, the rustling of clothes as people shifted, the scrape of feet against dirt. The smell of everyone, musty and sweaty. The course fabric under his hands and every grain of sand stuck to it. All within the span of a breath and all while trying to grasp the words of the prayer that kept slipping through his fingers like smoke.

  
Everything, all the sensations, sharpened into razors to torture, to unravel. It was too much. _It was too much._

  
A hand, calloused but warm on his own, dulled the razors edges. Kept them from converging, kept the world from tumbling into chaos. A simple gesture that let Chirrut breath.   
The thought that this gesture, however small and simple, was against the teachings briefly filtered through his mind. Prayer was a time for introspection, a time to attune one's self with the Force and the Force of Others. It was something to do solitary within a group with no outside contact.

  
But he could feel the thrum of Baze's heartbeat in his palm, heard Baze's breathing, steady and calming, and the teachings didn't matter. The words of the prayer finally found Chirrut, but they sounded as Baze's voice.

 

They were in sync in a way that was completely new. Completely foreign. Yet somehow completely right.

  
\--  
When the prayer ended, Baze's hand withdrew and Chirrut's eyes opened again. There was light in his vision that wasn't there before and he could _see_ the impression of Baze in his mind's eye. ( _There were others, more faint, around them-- the disciples and guardians-- but all that mattered was Baze._ )

  
There was chatter and footsteps as the others filed away to their duties, but they remained; Chirrut sitting, still trying to absorb everything that happened as Baze stood nearby.

  
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Baze finally asked. To anyone else it would've been intimidating, firm and harsh, that's just how Baze was, but Chirrut knew him well enough. Could sense his uncertainty and underlying embarrassment.

  
"I see you still haven't grown into your ears," Chirrut said, smiling. He could practically feel the warmth that flared into Baze's face in that moment.

 

"How can you even tell?" Baze asked, fighting to keep his tone even.

 

Chirrut shrugged, smile turning crooked and smug. "The Force told me so."

 

Baze sighed. "Oh yeah? And what else did the Force tell you?"

 

"That you're very handsome."

 

"The Force is lying," Baze grumbled. "Let's go." He held his hand out to help Chirrut up and  _move on_ and avoid this conversation.

 

Chirrut took the offered hand and pulled himself up into Baze's personal space, not letting go. He stood on his tip-toes and closed his eyes, let himself feel the warmth of Baze cut through the chill of Jedha for a moment.

 

Their foreheads touched.

 

"The Force," he said, "Does not lie."

 

They stayed like that for a moment and then....

 

Chirrut pulled Baze's ear. 

 

"It especially doesn't lie about these," Chirrut said, tugging at Baze's ear again.

 

Baze hated it, but he smiled nonetheless. ( _It was hard not to, when it was Chirrut_.)  "You're such an ass."


End file.
